


Always

by Not_You



Series: one only understands the things that one tames [31]
Category: Captain America: Winter Soldier, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Angst, Art, Artist Steve Rogers, Bathing/Washing, Body Modification, Bucky Feels, Bucky hates himself for what the Winter Soldier has done, Bucky is seriously fucked up, Collars, Comfort Food, Drunk Tony Stark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evil Robots Suck, Food Issues, Food Porn, Gross, Hand Feeding, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Kneeling, Light Bondage, M/M, Makeup, Marriage Proposal, Men Crying, Mental Health Issues, Prosthesis, Rehabilitation, Relationship Advice, Reunions, Safeword Use, Steve Feels, Steve Tries, Steve loves him no matter what, Sub Bucky Barnes, Surgery, Tony doing what Tony does best, Ultron - Freeform, bucky belongs to steve forever, dom from the 1940s crying, everyone needs a fucking hug, medically mandated booze, phil is wise, slumber party, sometimes drugs are REALLY bad, subs' night in, the food comes after the gross so you have a moment to recover, the winter soldier sucks as much as evil robots, we've stopped boiling everything and that's wonderful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1473658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky will always belong to Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve doesn't know much about electronics, but a guy doesn't have to know much to break things. Now he slams his shield down onto the last glimmering remnants of Ultron's brain over and over, crushing it to powder. All that hatred and all that lust for blood are in these last few chips and whatever else, and Steve grinds the powder into the asphalt of this deserted street, skin crawling with revulsion. At last he can do no more, and he stands up slowly, hoping that this time it's actually over.

“Good work, Cap!” Tony calls over the comm, adding, “Jarvis says the fucker is really gone this time.”

“Thank God for that,” Steve says, and shoves his cowl back, covered in sweat. Now that things are still, he can turn to the man who has saved his life more times than Steve can easily count. Winter Soldier or Bucky, Steve owes him. Now he's just standing there, that shaggy hair hanging in his eyes, metal arm gleaming through the big rents in his jacket. Steve used to always know what Bucky was thinking, but now his face is a mask, and his eyes are cold. “Hey,” is what Steve ends up saying, “are you gonna leave again?”

The mask cracks, just a little, and he sees a flash of that embarrassed longing that had always defined Bucky's submission, his reluctance to admit just how desperately he needed Steve. “No,” he says, and both hands flex helplessly, flesh and metal alike.

“Good,” Steve says, voice cracking. “Come to me.” It's an old command, and one that he's glad people still use. Every couple or group has their own protocol. For him and Bucky it always just meant for Bucky to come and kneel for him, and now he approaches with legs that are stiff like a nervous dog's, every movement slow and hesitant. Steve is peripherally aware of the rest of his team, keeping their silence and letting this moment happen. Bucky comes within arm's reach of Steve and stops, feet braced shoulder-width apart as his knees tremble, eyes on the ground. “Bucky...” Steve whispers as the seconds stretch out.

“I...” The look Bucky gives him is full of such deep and raw pain that Steve's eyes fill with tears.

“Come to me, darling,” he says, voice husky and quiet. “Please, come to me.” Bucky grits his teeth and shakes, and then viciously punches himself in the leg with the metal hand, wincing and sinking to the ground as the muscle spasms. “God, Bucky...” Steve breathes, and kneels with him, wrapping his arms around Bucky and hugging him tight, the metal arm close enough to snap his neck even before Clint could get a shot off, but that doesn't matter.

“Want to still be yours,” Bucky whispers, still shaking, “but I don't know if I can.” He clutches at Steve like a drowning man. “I'm not... I'm not really me anymore.”

“Shut up,” Steve growls, hugging him even more tightly, “just you shut the hell up, James Buchanan Barnes. You've always been mine, and you always will be.”

Something in Bucky seems to break then, and he lets Steve take him by the hair and lead him away. Steve is going to help clean this mess up, for now he just has to get Bucky somewhere safe. The others understand, even if they're all tense, expecting an attack at any moment. Bucky just keeps his eyes down and his hands at his sides. He doesn't do anything when Clint and Natasha take his weapons, pulling deadly suprises from all kinds of places beyond the obvious. Steve has no idea what to do in this situation, so he just follows his instincts. Once all the weaponry and armor is off and piled up for analysis, Steve turns to Tony, one hand on Bucky's metal arm. “Can you get this off?”

“...Uh, maybe? That's a pretty sophisticated interface, Cap.” Tony is supporting Bruce, who's almost asleep on his feet, dressed only in his emergency pants.

Steve nods. “Think about it.” A glance around the room assuring him that his team is all right for now, he takes Bucky up to his floor. Despite all the time he has been spending with Clint and Phil, his own space still feels lived-in, and he's glad of that. “Just gonna get you cleaned up,” he tells Bucky, leading him to the bathroom. Bucky doesn't make a sound, but stands still and lets Steve undress him. Steve fills the silence with comments on Bucky's tan lines, bruises, and scars as the tub fills, and then helps him into the hot water. With Bucky resting comfortably and quickly flushing pink with the heat, Steve strips and climbs in with him, settling behind Bucky and holding him in his arms, that broad back pressed to his chest.

“Always mine,” Steve says, brushing Buck's hair aside and kissing the back of his neck. Bucky whimpers and shakes, relaxing just a little against him.

“I don't... I don't wanna wake up from this,” Bucky croaks, and Steve clings to him.

“You won't. You won't because you're really here, Bucky. You're mine and you've come back to me.” Steve says it over and over as he washes Bucky. Bucky is still way too passive, just letting Steve move him, but he's looser now, and accepts the kisses Steve covers his face with. When Steve picks up a razor, Bucky just tips his head back, offering his throat to be shaved or cut as Steve sees fit. Steve carefully removes all of Bucky's bristles and washes his face and hair. Through it all Bucky relaxes more and more, and when Steve wraps them both in fluffy towels, Bucky actually meets his eyes for a just a moment, and smiles. Steve smiles back, and leads Bucky to bed. “I just want to hold you,” he says softly, gentling Bucky down like a skittish animal, and Bucky says nothing, but presses his face to Steve's chest and holds on, metal arm cool against Steve's skin. Even with that difference and the longer hair, holding Bucky feels like finally coming home again.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve wakes up slowly, feeling like there's some wonderful dream he should be staying asleep for. And then he feels Bucky warm and heavy in his arms, and Steve is suddenly utterly awake, taking in every detail of his sub's presence, somehow made doubly precious.

“I didn't think I could love you any more than I already did,” Steve whispers, stroking Bucky's hair.

“You always were a cornball, Rogers,” Bucky mutters without opening his eyes. The teasing curl of his mouth is the same as ever, and Steve just has to kiss it, keeping the touch light and chaste. Bucky draws in a slow, shaky breath, pressing even closer to Steve. He's trembling and they're both hard because it's morning and they're alive, but now isn't the time for that. He kisses Bucky again and strokes his hair, keeping it slow and gentle even as Bucky whines desperately and starts trying to grind against him.

“No,” Steve murmurs against Bucky's mouth as he draws his hips away. “Not yet.”

“Why the fuck not?” Bucky snarls, sounding a lot like his murderous alter ego.

“That's why.” Steve says it as gently as he can, because Bucky's eyes are filling with tears. “It's okay, baby,” he says softly, and kisses Bucky's cheek. They lie there for a long time, calming down in more ways than one before getting up and having a quiet breakfast. Bucky starts crying again when Steve gives him two eggs over easy and a pile of a toast, the kind of thing they used to fill up on in the old days. Steve kisses his cheek and hushes him, coaxing him to eat until yesterday's exertions kick in and he plows through the rest of his current plate and then two more. Steve is used to his own appalling appetite now, and isn't surprised to see Bucky running at about the same rate.

Once Steve is reasonably sure that he won't be interrupted by his own or Bucky's growling stomach, he calls Tony and is absolutely shocked not to go straight to voicemail. “Tony? You're not still awake, are you?”

“No! Jesus, I sleep sometimes. What's up?”

“I need you to look at Bucky's arm.” Bucky tenses beside him, but doesn't say anything now or on the way to the workshop. He just follows close, kind of crowding up behind Steve the way he always used to back when Steve was small. Steve takes the wrist of his living arm with one hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he pulls him into Tony's workshop.

Tony waves, sucking down one of his surprisingly good green smoothies. “Hey, guys. Whatcha need?”

“If you're awake enough, we need this arm removed,” Steve says.

“I am always awake enough for wicked-cool cybernetics.” He starts chattering away to Jarvis, gathering tools and gesturing for Bucky to come sit on one of the lab benches. Steve hopes like hell that this isn't reminding him of Hydra any more than it has to. Bucky is still Winter Soldier enough not to give anything away, sitting there with his eyes cold and his shoulders hunched. “Hey, Steve,” Tony says, “you figure he won't kill me?”

Steve glares at him. “No. He won't.”

“All right, all right, ease up,” Tony says, examining the metal arm, gently flexing the elbow. “I know Bucky's a solid guy, I'm just not sure about other parts.”

Bucky snorts. “You're not the only one, doc.”

“You know, I have a couple doctorates and nobody actually calls me that?” He works his way up to the shoulder joint. “You know how this thing goes on?”

“Not really.”

“Knocked out whenever they had to fix it, huh?” Bucky nods, and Steve swallows hard to keep from crying. “Ah, well. We'll figure it out.”

“Great,” Bucky mutters, and then jumps as Tony's nimble fingers find and hit something right at his underarm that makes the whole thing come off with an oily click. Tony squawks in surprise and staggers with the sudden weight of the thing in his hands, and Bucky makes a small, miserable noise and then looks to Steve, his eyes pleading. Steve goes to him and puts his arms around him without even thinking about it.

“Bucky...”

“I know I'm...” his voice cracks, and he swallows hard, leaning into Steve, “I know I deserve some kind of punishment, but--”

“What?!” Steve pulls back enough to look him in the eye. “Jesus, Bucky! Is that what you think this is?”

Bucky doesn't say anything, but just looks down in a shamefaced way that makes it completely obvious. Steve has hardly ever had to punish Bucky for anything, and he wasn't thinking of starting now. “Bucky, baby...” Steve hugs him tightly, and Tony takes the arm over to the other side of the room in one of those moments that remind Steve that he has more tact than he generally uses day-to-day. “Bucky, I don't blame you for anything the Winter Soldier did,” Steve murmurs into his ear. “I just need to be sure that arm is safe. It could be bugged, or trapped, or autonomous.”

“...Shit, you're right,” Bucky mutters, and Steve laughs, wiping his eyes.

“You boys okay?” Tony calls, and Steve smiles.

“I think so, yeah. Wanna come back over here and check out the attachment point?”

Tony does, of course, and Steve has to love him for the way he prods Bucky and jokes with him like this is a normal physical. Bucky responds in kind, and the whole feeling is of two subs befriending each other. Steve is always amazed at the easy way Tony slides back and forth, the real truth of his switch-ness.

“You a switch?” Bucky asks, watching as Tony pokes at the metal housing where the arm joined his body.

“Yep, out and proud. You got a problem?”

“Nope.”

“Great, we can be besties.”

Bucky bursts out laughing, and it sounds the way it always used to. “Sure we can. Got a BFF necklace we can split?”

“Totally, and then we can do each other's hair.”


	3. Chapter 3

Tony may have been joking, but Bucky's hair does need to be dealt with. After Tony has made sure that the empty housing isn't a bomb or controlling Bucky's brain or anything, Steve leads Bucky back up to his floor. It's partially to keep from overwhelming him with new people, and partially out of pure selfishness. Steve bathes his sub again and combs out those shaggy locks, the two of them sitting on the bed, Steve behind Bucky, his chest to Bucky's back one warm line of reassurance and comfort.

“I think I want this off, too,” he says, fingering some of Bucky's hair, “but that's no punishment either.”

“It does get in my eyes a lot,” Bucky says, but he sounds hesitant.

“We don't have to cut it, baby,” Steve assures him, kissing his cheek.

“I just... I mean, I feel like I won't be able to hide anymore, and if I... if I feel fucking 'Winter-y' and look into a mirror and see myself looking like old times...” He shivers.

“I see what you mean,” Steve murmurs, hugging him tightly. “How about we pull it back and see how you feel in a while?”

“Okay,” Bucky says softly, and takes Steve's hand, kissing his palm. It's something he always used to do, and Steve wonders how many times a guy's heart can break in one day. He kisses Bucky's cheek again, just holding him for a long and silent moment, the two of them breathing together.

“Where were you?” Steve mumbles eventually. “After the last time you saved my life, I mean.”

“I was getting my shit together.” Bucky shrugs. “Lot of false memories, lot of blank spots.” He shivers again. “It's pretty fucked up to find yourself in a museum.”

Steve nods. “It's been hard to get used to.”

“I can't believe we're not official. I mean, I thought we weren't fooling anyone!”

Steve laughs. “I have to admit, I was pretty surprised too.” He sighs, and presses a kiss to Bucky's neck. “But I haven't corrected them because it was too painful and because people are too damn interested in my personal life anyway.”

“Heh. Celebrity culture, Steve. You belong to the ages now, and the ages don't wash their hands after they pee.”

“...Is that another reference to something?”

“Absolutely. Don't worry, at current pop culture density there's no way to catch up on all of it.”

“I think I'm starting to realize that.”

“Man, at least I've gotten glimpses of the passage of time. This must be fucking insane for you.”

Steve laughs. “I don't know anyone with a sane life.”

“Point.”

“Come on, let's find something to tie your hair back with.”

“Yessir,” Bucky says with a ghost of his old grin.

Fortunately, Natasha is in the building. She's been spending most of her time hiding in plain sight somewhere with Nick Fury, but she stops by to check on things and make sure her plants are alive. Now she opens the door and sizes Bucky up with a quick glance.

“Hey,” Bucky says. “Sorry I shot you.”

“Water under the bridge,” she says, and looks at Steve. “Did you guys need something?”

“A hairtie for Bucky, since you're the only one who has any with Thor gone.”

She gestures for them to come in and vanishes into what's presumably the bedroom. Bucky stands awkwardly, looking more like a prisoner than anything else, and Steve settles on the couch because it's there. “Come here,” he says softly, and gestures for Bucky to join him. Bucky hesitates, stiff and truculent like he was before he knelt for Steve beside the dust that was Ultron, but finally forces himself to obey with gritted teeth. Steve puts a gentle hand on the back of his neck, and for a moment he thinks Bucky is going to hit him. And then Bucky's eyes are full of shame and misery, and he buries his face in Steve's chest.

“Sorry,” he whispers, and Steve kisses the top of his head, hugging him.

“I know.”

Fortunately for both of their pride, they have themselves mostly under control by the time Natasha comes back. That, or she has been waiting for them.

“Here,” she says, holding out a small package to Bucky. “One dozen damage-free elastics, in subtle brown. They'll suit you very well.”

“Thanks.” He takes it, looking confused.

Natasha sighs. “You and I are almost the same person. I understand your actions and I'm not angry with you.”

“...Oh.”

“Even if you ruined me for bikinis, you prick.”

“It's more like punctuation,” Steve says, and Bucky gives him a look that hasn't changed at all. Steve rolls his eyes. “I've only seen it because she was telling me the story, you jealous thing.”

Bucky actually blushes at that, and Natasha smiles. “Don't worry, I've got one of my own. And I need to get my things in order to get back to him, so...”

“Right.” Steve hops up and pulls Bucky with him. “Thanks, Natasha.”

“I woulda sworn she was a dom, before,” Bucky says on the way back. “Then again, I woulda sworn _I_ was a dom.”

Steve shudders to think of his poor, confused sub, and takes Bucky's wrist, squeezing gently. “It's okay, sweetheart. I'll take care of you.”

Back in Steve's bedroom, he brushes Bucky's hair back and ties it back. It looks all right, and a hell of lot less like Bucky's murderous alter-ego. Steve presses a kiss to Bucky's temple and then lets him get up and find a mirror. He vanishes into the bathroom and stays there long enough that Steve is starting to worry before he finally comes out. He looks... somewhere between the Soldier and his old self, a little sheepish and unsure. Steve holds out his arms. “Come here, beautiful.”

Bucky obeys, settling into Steve's lap and just holding on for a while. “Thank you, sir,” he finally whispers, and makes a soft little sound when Steve kisses him.


	4. Chapter 4

It doesn't feel right to do much more with Bucky right now than hold him and kiss him. Steve isn't sure if he's afraid of damaging Bucky's fragile peace of mind with too many demands, or of looking into his eyes in the middle of things and seeing the Winter Soldier. Either way, the whole thing seems too early and too raw, and now that Bucky's really starting to push, Steve doesn't know what the fuck he's going to do. The last time he had had to really punish Bucky was in 1938, and all he had done was make him sleep in his own bed for the night. Now Steve is just trying not to hurt his sub anymore than he already has been.

“Bucky, stop it,” he says, eyes still closed as Bucky humps his morning wood against Steve's leg.

“Fucking _why_?” the Winter Soldier snarls, and suddenly his full weight is on Steve, callused hand wrapping around Steve's throat. He's not squeezing anywhere near as hard as he can, still himself enough to not really choke Steve.

“Bucky, red.” Steve says it as calmly and as firmly as he can, praying that they won't actually have to fight. Bucky snatches his hand back like Steve's skin is red hot, letting out a broken sob and scrambling away. With only one arm his balance is off, and he tips over the edge of the bed, landing on the floor housing-first with a loud crash and a yelp of pain. “Bucky!” Steve is beside him in a second, reaching out to help or comfort him, but Bucky slaps his hands away and curls into a ball with his back to Steve, keening in anguish. Steve wants to be strong for him, but there's no way he can keep his eyes from filling with tears and overflowing. Without thinking about it at all he lies down beside Bucky and wraps around him from behind, holding him tightly, almost crushing him. The housing is right by his face, gleaming hateful silver, the flesh around it red and painful-looking. Steve starts to kiss it, and Bucky wails in misery and tries to get away. Steve holds him where he is, shaking.

“No, Bucky,” he says, feeling like his throat is tying itself into a knot, “That wasn't you. I know it wasn't you and you didn't hurt me and you responded to my safeword and _you are a good sub, damn it._ You're mine and I'm keeping you. You hear me, Bucky? You're _mine_.” By now Bucky has subsided to quiet whimpers. He's still crying and so is Steve and this is going to go on for far too long, but they're both calmer now.

When they can finally sit up and mop the tears off their faces, Steve puts some Neosporin on the little cuts from Bucky's fall, and then gets him an icepack for the bruise that's coming up on his ribs. They've both had much worse in their time, but Steve feels terrible, like he let Bucky get shot or something.

“Stop guilting, sir.”

“Who says I'm guilting? And that's not even a word.”

“It's a word because I just used it and you knew what I meant.” He rests his head on Steve's shoulder, arm awkwardly across his body to hold the ice in place. “None of this shit is your fault, and you've been nothing but good to me, and I've been a goddamn horny homicidal asshole.”

Steve turns his head to nuzzle Bucky's hair, sighing. “You were always a horny asshole, Bucky.”

Bucky laughs, really sounding like his old self for the first time. “Ain't that what you love about me, boss?”

“That and a lot of other stuff.” Steve kisses Bucky softly, and then gets him an Ace bandage to keep the icepack in place, winding it around Bucky's ribs in a way that's so familiar from alleyway scuffles and military action that he starts to get choked up again.

“Easy, boss,” Bucky murmurs, stroking Steve's hair. Both of them nearly jump out of their skin when Steve's phone rings. Once Steve is reasonably sure he won't sound weird when he speaks, he picks it up.

“Hey, Tony?”

“So, I might've reverted to bad habits and stayed up all night, but this shit is _fascinating_. You can't just give a man prime crack and expect him to go to bed early. Anyway, you guys should totally come down here and check this out. Oh, and tell Bucky that it's like, extra not his fault now. Speaking of crack. But seriously, get your asses down here.” He hangs up without saying goodbye because he's Howard's son, and Steve relays the information to Bucky.

Washed and dressed and reasonably presentable, they head down to the workshop where Tony is waiting for them.

“So, technically the arm itself is all right. Perfect working order, no bugs, no traps, nothing. _But_ ,” he beckons them over to where the arm is lying partially disassembled on one of the lab benches, an enormous magnifying lens poised over it, “there are these microconduits running through it. I missed them on the first exam because they're actually really clever and are molecularly arranged to deflect a lot of scans.”

Steve tries not to feel like too much of a meathead. “And that means?”

“It means that I was probably wrong about the housing, and that Bucky's problem might be more external than it seems.”

Bucky is staring through the lens at the arm, and Steve joins him. 'Microconduits' apparently means, 'really really small pipes,' and looking at the arrangement a chill of revulsion passes over his skin. “Shit. They were using this thing to dose you.”

“It's actually a really good diffusion system for like, painkillers and other things that don't suck, but yeah. Jarvis and I managed to get in there and get a tiny little chemical sample. We're still not sure what it is, but holy shit, the CIA wishes they had had this for MK-ULTRA.”

“So what do we do?” Bucky asks, finally looking away from the arm.

“Well, you sit there and let me be a deranged genius at the socket until I collapse, which should be another four, five hours. I guess Steve can do whatever he wants.”

For the first hour Steve stays as moral support, but as Tony effortlessly puts Bucky at ease again, Steve begins to think about the neglected repair and relief efforts, as well as how badly he needs to talk to Phil. “Bucky, will you be all right if I take care of some things?”

“Yeah, boss. Tony can babysit me.”

Steve kisses Bucky softly, and stares into his eyes to make sure he's all right. Bucky looks back squarely, just the way he used to. Steve kisses him again and leaves, hoping to God that he's doing the right thing.


	5. Chapter 5

The only good thing about this particular debacle is that they had had a lot of advance notice, so hardly anyone had actually been hurt by the pitched battle. Steve has no idea just how much chaos Ultron might have caused with the world's computers, but at least the ruined buildings are empty. Steve has seen the human results of bombing raids, and he is profoundly grateful to see nothing of the kind here. He salvages materials and does some heavy lifting for a while, but being away from Bucky is burning a hole in his mind. As selfish and as wrong as it feels to quit after only two hours, some of all that mental health stuff has sunk in. Steve knows that he has to talk to someone, that some dom construction worker will accidentally bump him and that Steve will get ugly. He doesn't really feel tempted to hit anyone, but he doesn't want to yell, either. He moves a few last heavy loads, says a few encouraging words, and then makes his way back to the tower.

Phil and Clint don't always stay on their floor, since Phil's house is full of memories and offers them more privacy, but they almost always spend time at the tower after whatever crisis forces the Avengers to assemble. Steve is profoundly grateful for it now, knocking on their door. Waiting for a response he wonders if he should have called them on the way over. He always forgets to do things like that, still more used to thinking of phones as appliances rather than easily portable tools.

“Hey, Steve,” Clint says, yawning as he opens the door. He's wearing a cartoon t-shirt that's too big for him over boxer shorts, and he's adorable. Steve has to smile at him. “Hey. Is Phil awake? I need to talk to him.”

“Mm, probably. C'mon in.” He kisses Steve's cheek and leads him to the living room, settling him on the couch with a glass of water as he goes to get Phil. Phil isn't dressed either, but he has the dignity of a full length robe and actually combed hair, unlike Clint, who is long overdue for a trim and looks a bit like a cockatoo. “Coffee, boss?” he asks, and Phil smiles. 

“Please.” He kisses Clint softly, and then sits on the couch with Steve. “So, what do we need to talk about?”

“Bucky.”

“That is what I would have expected, yes. What's going on?”

“I can't hear you!” Clint calls from the kitchen, and Steve laughs, and then sighs.

“I just... I don't know what I'm ready to do with Bucky yet, and he keeps pushing. Getting mad at me for saying no seems to trigger the Winter Soldier, and once that's past he hates himself for whatever he's done or said. But I mean, how can I ask him to do anything for me right now?”

Phil smiles softly, and squeezes Steve's shoulder. “It's so easy to forget how young you really are. Is there a lot of sexual service in your dynamic?”

“I guess... not really? You mean like, kicking back and having him do all the work, right?”

“Essentially.”

“Then no, it's not a big part of our dynamic.”

“So Bucky wouldn't be thinking of sex with you as providing a service, right?”

“Right.”

“So why hold off? I didn't fuck Clint for a long time because he has a history. He needed to know he could really trust me, that I wouldn't abuse or dump him. But Bucky already trusts you. You have nothing to prove to him that way, and I wouldn't be surprised if the Soldier is coming out in self-defense because he feels rejected.”

“...I am such an idiot.”

“No, you're a good dom trying to do right by a troubled sub. There's a subtle but very important difference.”

Steve laughs, and looks up as Clint emerges from the kitchen with coffee. He has everything on a tray, and he sets it on the coffee table before snagging his own cup and settling at Phil's feet, beaming as Phil strokes his hair. Cream and sugar are already taken care of, since Clint is a good boy and remembers how everyone takes their coffee. Steve smiles, happy for them and sad for Bucky and himself. Phil smiles back, understanding. “In all honesty, Steve, I would recommend that you do have sex with him. Don't give in when he's pushing, but find a good time and bind him well enough that he won't have to worry about anything.”

“I guess I see what you mean.”

“Don't frame it as a punishment, either. Disregard all this if Bucky doesn't like restraints, but somehow I doubt that.”

“Do I even want to know how many biographies of both of us you've read?”

“Nope!” Phil chirps, and Clint cackles as Steve laughs and cringes at the same time.

“That's how I really knew he loved me,” Clint teases. “He let me touch the replica shield.”

It's always weird to confront the fact of this older, wiser, and infinitely more sophisticated dom being a complete Captain America fanboy, but Steve is pretty much used to it. They talk about other things as they finish their coffee, and he thanks Phil and Clint again for their hospitality before going to the workshop to pick up Bucky. He has no idea what he'll find there, and is running by the time he reaches it. Slowing down to keep from ramming into any of the machinery on his way in, he catches sight of Tony and Bucky sitting in the middle of one of Tony's rat's nests of productivity. They seem quite comfortable, and Steve blinks at the sight of the bottle between them.

“What are you doing?”

“Hey, boss!” Bucky calls, looking delighted to see him and at least half-drunk, reaching for him. Steve picks his way through the clutter to get to him, settling beside Bucky and hugging him.

“We figured a thing out,” Tony adds, taking another shot and grinning. “So there's still totally a well-hidden reservoir of the bad stuff in that housing and it's gonna take surgery to get it out, but it turns out that ethanol reduces the stuff's half-life and effectiveness. I've already made a few calls to try and assemble the right staff, and now that you're here I'm probably gonna go to bed because it's been...”

“Twenty-eight hours, sir,” Jarvis says.

“Thanks, J. But yeah, it's been forever. Don't knock anything over and shut the door behind you when you leave, 'kay? You can keep the bottle.” Tony waves as he wanders out, and Bucky giggles, breathing whiskey on Steve.


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky is pretty drunk, but as they head up to Steve's floor it does seem to be wearing off much faster than it would have before. He's still tipsy when he sprawls out on the bed, though, and reaches for Steve. “I know you don't wanna fuck me, but c'mere.”

“It's not that I don't want to,” Steve says, climbing onto the bed and snuggling up to Bucky, “it's that I've been thinking I ought not to.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I thought it might be too much for you or bring out the Winter Soldier.”

“I think it might keep him back. He's never been too interested in sex.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Maybe it was 'cause I was passing for dom.” Bucky shudders, hiding his face in Steve's chest. “I never wanna do that again,” he whimpers, and Steve hugs him tightly.

“You won't have to, baby. I'll keep you safe.”

Bucky makes another sharp, needy little noise, looking up at Steve with wide, helpless eyes. He's hard against Steve's leg, but he's not pushing now. He's just watching Steve's face for news of his fate, so desperate but so good. Steve cups Bucky's face in his hands and kisses him, deep and slow and intent. He slides his tongue along Bucky's and Bucky groans and shudders all over, single arm clutching at Steve, nails digging in.

“Oh,” he breathes, “please, please sir, please fuck me, _please_...”

“Yes,” Steve growls, rolling Bucky onto his back and grinding against him, making him whine and tremble, thighs gripping Steve's hips. He whimpers Steve's name over and over, and gasps when Steve pins his wrist above his head.

“Steve, please...”

“Sshh.” Steve kisses him more gently. “Easy, Bucky. Easy.” Bucky whines and vibrates with tension, but holds still when Steve tells him to, staring at the ceiling and taking deep, controlled breaths. Clint had introduced Steve to bondage tape when Steve had desperately needed to restrain someone who wanted to be restrained, and it's a godsend now. He binds Bucky's wrist to the headboard, and his ankles to the footboard, leaving him enough slack to bend his knees and move his hips, but not to actually draw his legs together. Bucky tests the bonds, and Steve grins, pinning him down and wrapping more of the tape around his chest and binding it to the edge of the bedframe. “There,” he says, beaming down at Bucky. “All wrapped up for me.”

Bucky whines sharply, trembling in his bonds. “Steve...”

“All mine,” Steve murmurs, and Bucky groans.

“Yes, yes, fuck, _Steve_ , all I want is to be yours.” He's trembling now, and whimpers as Steve straddles his waist, leaning down to kiss him. It's soft and chaste at first, but soon Steve has his hand knotted in Bucky's hair and the kiss becomes rough and dirty and devouring. When he finally pulls away Bucky is panting, whimpering softly on each exhale. He looks up with those big, limpid, blissed-out sub eyes, and Steve growls and kisses him again, rutting a little against his belly.

“Perfect,” Steve murmurs, pulling away again as Bucky moans and struggles a little against the tape. Steve recognizes the way he moves, flashing back to years of cheap beds and cheaper restraints, Bucky calibrating his strength for worn socks and creaking headboards. “You've always been so good for me,” Steve murmurs, and Bucky moans as Steve runs both hands up his arm, stroking and squeezing the hard, scarred muscle there. “And so beautiful. So fucking beautiful, Bucky.” Bucky whimpers and shakes as Steve covers him in kisses. Every scar left on Bucky's skin by the Winter Soldier and all the old ones, too. He rubs his cheek against Bucky's hip like a cat, breathing deeply of his scent and then sighing it out. Bucky makes a helpless, desperate little noise in his throat. Steve nuzzles his cock and presses a kiss to the head, making Bucky let out a hoarse sob and struggle again as he moves on upward, worshipping Bucky's chest with his mouth before kissing him again.

“Still want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

“Please,” Bucky whimpers, gazing up helplessly.

They've run experiments with Steve's blood and he knows he can't catch or carry anything, so he just slicks himself up and pushes one cautious finger into Bucky, finding him tight and resistant from lack of practice. Bucky whines and struggles to relax, determined as ever to be good for Steve. Steve tells him over and over what a good boy he is, teasing and stroking as kisses Bucky again and again. Soon he can ease a second finger in, and after that Bucky relaxes completely, swallowing up three fingers and panting for Steve's cock. He tips his head back and groans deep in his chest when Steve finally pushes into him. It's so hot and soft and tight inside Bucky, clinging to Steve and squeezing mercilessly. Steve groans and fucks him slow and shallow, going deeper and faster and harder as Bucky begs for it. 

Before the serum Steve could only do this with his hands and even that left him out of breath. Now he slams into Bucky over and over, making him quiver and whine, fighting the tape. He's strong enough that the loop connecting his wrist to the headboard snaps, and he clutches at Steve's back, nails digging into the skin and making Steve whine. Bucky babbles an apology and Steve just kisses it out of his mouth, pounding into him and reaching between them to stroke Bucky's cock at just the right moment to make Bucky wail and come, clenching over and over on Steve as he sobs and writhes. It takes Steve about another three thrusts to join him, and for a long time afterward they just lie there silently, breathing hard and feeling each other's beating hearts.

Neither of them really want to speak, so they don't. Steve frees Bucky and takes him to the bathroom to clean up. Before the serum Bucky used to bathe Steve when he was too tired or too sick to do it properly himself, and as they settle into the tub together he shifts to sit behind and cradle Steve the way he always did. Steve feels like he should turn this around, be the one to soothe and serve Bucky. He glances over his shoulder and thinks better of it when he sees Bucky's contented little smile as he lathers Steve's chest.

“Lemme take care of you, boss,” he says softly, and Steve shivers, relaxing back into his embrace.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time Tony has his surgical staff assembled, Bucky is doing a lot better. A combination of sex and liquor keeps the Winter Soldier in check, and Bucky is positively chipper when Steve gets the call that Dr. Strange and Cecilia Reyes are here and ready to go. Steve is worried that surgery will bring on Hydra flashbacks, but the staff is here and Bucky is eager, so Steve lets his sub lead the way.

Tony has turned part of his workshop into what amounts to an O.R., and everyone is waiting by the time they arrive. Steve has seen pictures of Dr. Strange, but he looks much more ordinary gowned and gloved. The colored-- the _woman of color_ beside him is completely unfamiliar, but if Tony thinks she'd be good for this surgery, Steve is willing to trust her.

“Right,” Tony says, rubbing his hands together. “Let's get started.”

Steve helps scrub and prepare Bucky, and gowns up to sit beside him and hold his hand. They're only using local anesthetic, and Bucky chatters away, only Steve aware of how tense he really is. Nurse Reyes gently prods at the housing, questioning Bucky as Dr. Strange listens and studies the three-dimensional projection of the housing that Tony and Jarvis have made. The two of them consult with one another for a while, throwing around terms neither Steve nor Bucky know, but they switch back to English to tell Bucky where they're going to be injecting the local, and where the incisions will be.

It's hard for Steve when the cutting starts, but he stays with Bucky, holding his wrist and leaning against him. Bucky doesn't look at the work at all, but Steve has to watch, has to look out for Bucky. The moment when the housing comes out is the worst, because there's a sound with it, a horrible quiet squelch that Steve is pretty sure he'll remember forever. Bucky grimaces, and Tony laughs.

“The worst is over, anyway! See?” He flushes the blood off and disassembles the thing as Reyes and Strange stop the bleeding from what's left of Bucky's shoulder joint. Steve doesn't understand most of the parts, but he understands perfectly the reservoir of chemical sludge that Tony dumps out. “Better out than in, right?” Tony says, and Bucky laughs.

“Damn straight. My god, that shit's gross. No wonder I've been such an asshole.”

“Well, some of it natural talent,” Steve says, and Bucky and Tony both grin.

“Anyway, Bucky, the half-life on this stuff is forty-eight hours. Looking at the amount in your bloodstream at last test, it should be completely gone in a month. Maybe less with ethanol.”

“Hear that, Steve? I'm medically obligated to be a lush.”

“You're lucky you're cute when you're drunk,” Steve says, and looks over to see Reyes blotting up the last of the blood and helping Strange to wind the bandage. “Looking good?”

“Great,” Reyes assures him.

“I've never been a bleeder,” Bucky says, shrugging with the uninjured side.

“Lucky for you,” Reyes says. “This was actually pretty complicated.”

“So I'm Zola-related-crap-free, right?” Bucky says.

“Yeah,” Tony says. “This time we're sure.”

Steve thanks all of them profusely once the procedure is truly complete and he has been given instructions on caring for the wound, and then drags Bucky away to cling to him all day, feeling like his heart will burst with dominant impulses. He wants to re-collar Bucky, but it's too much too soon and he knows it. So he settles for taking care of him, holding him and petting him and making sure that he wants for nothing. Bucky complains a little, saying that it's his job to wait on Steve hand and foot, not the other way around, but he submits to being served like a good boy.

It isn't until two weeks later that Steve realizes that Bucky has placed all decisions about his arm into Steve's hands. He's hand-feeding Bucky, something they used to do on special occasions and when Bucky had had a very bad day, when Bucky asks him about it. “Hey, boss?”

“Yes?” Steve is cutting another few delicate bites of steak, Bucky's head resting on his knee.

“What are you gonna do about my arm?”

“...Well, I was gonna ask you what you wanted, Buck, damn.”

“Oh. I just feel kinda incompetent these days, so I figured I'd leave it up to you.”

“You're getting more competent every day, Bucky.”

“Still.”

Steve sighs, setting his knife and fork down. “Well, I hate the fucking thing because Zola made it and Zola put it on you. But I want you to have two arms again, so if Tony says it really is safe, I guess I'll let him reattach it.”

“Okay.” Bucky sighs, obviously relieved. “We feel pretty much the same way.” He smiles shyly up at Steve, and Steve smiles back, carefully putting a little bit of bleu cheese onto a bite of steak and offering his fork to Bucky, who takes it and purrs a little. The Winter Soldier had been programmed not to care about food. Unlike Natasha's experiences of five-star cuisine ruined by tension, the Soldier had generally subsisted on protein bars and MREs, with fresh fruit and cheap sandwiches being the real highlights. Now he melts against Steve's thigh, savoring each taste of the delicacies on Steve's plate.

“You're my good boy,” Steve says softly, giving him some polenta with mushroom cream sauce. In their era of origin neither of them had really known how to cook, and there hadn't been much variety to cook with. Out of all the changes in his country during his absence, Steve has engaged with food the most. All these regional dishes that have gone national, and delicious foreign foods and fresh fruit year-round... He watches Bucky eat the polenta and lick his lips, then draws his fork back and gives his sub some of the steamed vegetables, still green and crunchy because they haven't been overcooked. Bucky looks surprised when he tastes them, and Steve grins. “Benefits of the modern age, baby.”


	8. Chapter 8

As Bucky adjusts, Steve worries less about leaving him alone, especially since Tony's offer to be friends was apparently completely genuine and accepted in the same spirit. Knowing that his sub is doing better and that he can contribute more time and effort to repair work is wonderful, and Steve is actually whistling the proverbial cheery tune as he returns home. Bucky is adapting quickly to modern times, and has sent Steve a text to let him know that he's on Tony's floor, and that they're having an impromptu sub night.

Jarvis announces Steve's presence, and he opens the door on a whole gaggle of giggling subs. Most of his team is here, and they're just _precious_. They've made a huge nest of pillows and blankets and couch cushions on the floor, and are in various stages of various makeovers, watching some color movie he doesn't recognize.

“Hey, boss!” Bucky calls, waving to him. His hair is hanging in loose, sleek curls that are somehow limned in delicate gold glitter, and it's a strange and pretty look.

“Hey, darlin'. You look lovely.” He does, even if it's a bit strange because Bucky has never gone in for makeup. Now his eyes are lined with dark brown, and forest green eyeshadow brings out the corresponding shades in his changeable irises. His lips are painted a wet-looking pink that's actually a little distracting, and he smiles shyly, clearly seeing something in Steve's face.

“I realy do think it's a goddamn tragedy that male subs weren't supposed to be pretty back in the day,” Tony says, lips brilliant red against his beard, eye makeup theatrical and Egyptian-inspired in black and gold. He's lounging with his head in Pepper's lap, and she's looking remarkably young and sweet with her hair down, a few artificial flowers threaded into one slender braid.

“Yeah, makeup was for girls when we were growing up,” Steve agrees, settling down beside Bucky and pulling him close. “But Bucky does look real pretty. So do you, Tony, even if it's a little showgirl for my tastes.”

Tony laughs. “And the rest of us?”

“Pepper is always lovely,” Steve says, and she smiles at him, sweet and unguarded and bright, running her fingers through Tony's hair and making him close his eyes and purr.

“Thank you, sir,” she says softly.

“Nothing but the truth, Pepper. And Clint looks adorable the way he always does.” Clint laughs, holding one of Thor's hands steady to paint his nails. “Thor, is that pattern on your eyes Asgardian or just something Tony made up?”

“Asgardian, Captain. There is meaning in each line.”

“It's pretty, anyway, and I like you in gold.” He kisses Bucky's neck, even though Bucky has been getting better about being jealous, probably because every sub (and switch) in the tower is happily claimed. Natasha comes in from the bathroom with her long, long hair loose and gleaming that rich brown that Steve would swear was natural if he didn't know better, and her eyes smoky and drowning-deep, her naturally lush lips exaggerated and nearly glowing red. “Wow,” Steve says, “that's dramatic.”

Natasha laughs. “It's not something Elisabeth would go for, and since she wears makeup day-to-day...” she shrugs.

“How's that going, anyway?” Steve asks, and Tony pauses the movie. “Oh, I can be quiet if you want to watch in peace.”

“I've seen this a million times, we're just coming up on my favorite part,” Tony assures him. “And I'm curious too.”

Natasha smiles, settling beside Clint and getting to work painting Thor's other hand. “I like being Elisabeth. She's sweet and gentle.”

There's a little silence at this, and then Bucky extends his fist to her. “I know that feel, bro.” She taps her tiny fist to his, and Steve sighs.

“Never going to catch up. Absolutely hopeless.”

“Yep. Now, let's watch the part where Yvonne and Gwendolyn finally pull their heads out,” Tony says, and switches the movie on again. It doesn't have the same emotional impact for Steve, having missed the whole lead-up, but he's happy for the couple and glad that the evil landlord doesn't triumph and that the controlling father is put in his place at last and that all the children graduate.

Later, as they're walking back to Steve's floor, Bucky tells him that Tony has been studying the arm, and has found a few efficiency problems. “I'm not sure he's building a new one, but I don't think he can really resist, and since Tony isn't a goddamn monster, I was thinking I could--”

“Bucky, it's your body. I'm not going to punish you for things you did under duress and under the influence by denying you a second arm. I would be delighted to see you with a nice piece of Stark tech. Something we could really trust.”

“...I'm not gonna tell him you put it like that because his head's too swollen as it is, but you're right.”

The very next day Tony has the skeleton of an arm the right size for Bucky in his workshop, and Steve can't help scooping him up into a long, tight hug at the sight of it. Tony laughs, patting Steve's shoulder. “You know me, Cap. Always willing to help a friend.”

“I do know you, and I'm glad.” He releases Tony and smiles down at him. 

Tony flushes a little. “You're really cute when you're in proud dom mode.” Steve blushes scarlet, and stammers an apology even as Tony laughs, patting his shoulder. “It's okay, I react to Phil, too.”

“I've always wondered what it's like a be a--” Steve stops, not sure if he's allowed to say 'switch.' “Uh, heterodynamic?”

Tony laughs. “It's kind of convenient, actually. I meet a nice sub, I become their dom. I meet a nice dom, I have no problem submitting. Way I look at it, it betters my chances.”

“I guess so.” Steve smiles.

Over the next week, Steve stops by every day to help calibrate and form the arm, fascinated by the hardlight projections of Tony's model versus Zola's.


	9. Chapter 9

The new arm is a thing of beauty. Sleek and silver and powerful like the old one, this one moves even more organically, and is actually slightly stronger. It has greater delicacy of touch as well, and after Bucky agrees to it, Tony adds retractable claws to its fingertips.

“Always said I was an alley cat,” Bucky says, watching as Tony finishes attaching the claws. 

Tony just grins at him. “Give me another couple days to finalize the housing and you'll be out ruining furniture in no time.”

The surgery to attach the new arm takes much longer than the other one, and they put Bucky under for it. Steve is glad he doesn't have to know anything about it, but can't help feeling a little sorry for himself because the whole thing is disgusting. And it's always hard for a dom to watch someone cut their sub, even if they know full well it's for the sub's own good. Dominant parents are famously difficult at the pediatrician's office, and Steve does his best to keep his instincts in check. Tony helps by being subby at him, and Steve reflects that Tony's dynamic really is almost a superpower of its own. Strange and Reyes do their usual good work, and after three hours of painstaking effort, the new housing is in place. There's no diffusion system. Tony offered Bucky one with a single access point that he could physically block at need, but even with the convenience of having full range of motion and what's basically an IV drip at the same time, it's too much like Zola's work for Bucky to accept.

Attaching the arm to the new housing is simple, and Bucky wakes up an hour later, blinking and looking as confused as he did in the Hydra base Steve rescued him and the Commandos from. It's like an icy hand around Steve's heart, and the relief when Bucky smiles up at him is as profound as it was then. Steve squeezes Bucky's living hand and then presses a kiss to the back of it, feeling like he's about to cry.

“You're okay, Bucky. You're with me, and you're safe,” he says instead, and Bucky beams.

“I know, Steve. I know.”

Bucky's healing isn't as fast as Steve's, but it is accelerated. Within six weeks he has full range of motion in his new arm, and soon after that he's sparring with Steve and the others, delighted to put it into use. After one of these bouts he and Steve are lying on the mats, Steve running his fingers over and over the plain silver of Bucky's arm.

“Hey, Bucky?” he says at last, nuzzling Bucky's intact shoulder.

“Sir?” Bucky murmurs, sounding half-asleep.

“I wanna paint my shield onto this arm. To show that you're mine. That okay?”

Bucky shivers happily, hugging him. “So okay.”

Tony is able to provide the right kind of paint, and Steve spends the next few days making stencils and practicing until he's sure he can do it right. Once he's sure, he calls Bucky down to the workshop and drapes him in a drop cloth, spraying the shield design right where the Winter Soldier's red star used to be. After it's done, Bucky is quiet and clingy, soft and shy and needy the way he was when Steve collared him all the way back in '39. Thinking of that, Steve squeezes the back of Bucky's neck, the workshop huge and utterly silent around them.

“Master, what are you thinking?” Bucky whispers after another long moment.

“I'm thinking of collaring you, boy,” Steve says softly, and Bucky shivers and whines.

“Please, sir,” he whimpers, and hides his face in Steve's chest.

“How like me to assume the thing you want is too much for you. I'm sorry, sweetheart.”

“It would have been too much before,” Bucky says almost too quietly to hear, “but I'm yours again.”

“Not again,” Steve tells him, “always. You never stopped being mine.” 

Bucky whines softly, clinging to Steve, and the next day Steve goes looking for a collar. These days a lot of doms bring their sub with them to choose, but Steve and Bucky are old-fashioned in this and a lot of other ways. In the old days Steve had had to make one out of a belt because they were so poor, but now he examines almost the entire stock of one of the most exclusive shops in the city. Collars come in so many colors and materials now, and there is a dizzying array of tag shapes and ring types. It takes hours of browsing, but at last Steve finds what he wants. Real leather with a sweat-wicking synthetic lining, deepest brown and buffed to a mellow, buttery gloss. The various rings are tempting, but Steve gets a good detachable plate like the one on Clint's collar, so Bucky can wear it while sparring or in real combat, depending. The fitting is dull bronze, and Steve gets a matching round tag with an S engraved on one side and 'Property of Steven Grant Rogers' on the other side. The nice thing about a joint this swanky is that they know how to behave around someone as ridiculously famous as Steve is now, and just smile and congratulate him. He signs a few autographs before he leaves, but only offers because of the look in the clerk's eyes.

Back at the tower, he makes sure there are no rough spots and sets the box on the bedside table before calling Bucky into the room. Bucky comes from Tony's floor, wearing a sword and shackle t-shirt with the collar and sleeves ripped off. Steve smiles at him, standing by the bed. “Come to me, dearest,” he says. Bucky shudders and drops to his knees, eyes big and lost already as he crawls to Steve. “Will you take and keep my collar?” Steve says. He holds it out to Bucky, and Bucky shudders, taking it and holding it around his neck.

“Yes, master. For all my life.”

Steve shivers and kneels in front of him to buckle the collar at the back of his neck. Bucky sighs in the most profound relief Steve has ever heard, and as they kiss to seal the covenant it feels like their lives are finally beginning again.


End file.
